


where the hell are you? (when i need you)

by korilove



Series: you & i verse [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Break Up, F/M, Future Fic, Mentions of Sexual Content, drunk!Stiles, proposal gone wrong, referenced marijuana use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 04:15:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4376873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/korilove/pseuds/korilove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia and Stiles' break up from 3 years ago, fears and mistakes take over and how each cope with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	where the hell are you? (when i need you)

**Author's Note:**

> omg so it's been way too long since I've updated this series! I am so sorry, I got distracted by other fics and of course, season 5! 
> 
> Big thanks to [scottmczall](scottmczall.tumblr.com) for beta reading this ♥
> 
> Title of the fic is from "Wake Up" by Three Days Grace.

 

> April 1st, 2018          12:16 PM       from: OMH Labs
> 
> Dear Ms. Martin,
> 
>  
> 
> Upon reviewing your application for employment, we are pleased to offer you the position forecasting manager. In this position you will report to Daniel Harris, Co-CFO. Your tentative start date will be May 18th, 2018.
> 
>  
> 
> This offer is contingent on successfully passing a criminal record check and a drug test to be completed  by May 3rd, 2018 by OMH labs.
> 
>  
> 
> Please respond as soon as possible with your response. We await your final decision by no later than May 13th, 2018.
> 
>  
> 
> If you have any additional questions or concerns, please feel free to contact us via email, or phone: 1-800-555-6278
> 
>  
> 
> Yours Sincerly,
> 
> Maggie Fulton  
> Human Resources Manager

 

Lydia had been contemplating the job offer for a full week now. She hadn’t told anyone but her mother, who had been absolutely delighted to hear that her daughter had been offered a higher-than-average paying job with an established marketing company.

 

Everything was perfect about this job - it was in her field and for a company she could actually get behind politically. The downside? The job was in New York City.

 

Lydia had shown so much promise since she’d graduated from CSU, top honors as usual. Stiles had graduated also, having majored in criminal science before enrolling in the police academy. Scott and Allison had driven from Beacon Hills to attend.

 

Lydia had always prized her intelligence, and the pride she felt showing that to the world (mainly showing up her high school classmates) gave her pride. And sharing it with the people who mattered most to her definitely helped.

 

\-----------------------

 

"Lyds, we're gonna be late!" Stiles' voice rings out from the living room before the slamming of the front door of the Stilinski house can be heard.

 

Lydia chooses to ignore him, she's just got to grab her earrings from her bag -

 

Her thoughts are cut short as her attention flickers to the blue duffle bag beside hers. The bag is partially open, like Stiles had been in a hurry and didn't bother to zip it up all the way.

 

 _I definitely shouldn't go through his stuff._ She thinks, mulling it over in her mind before her curiosity wins, moving over to it and taking a peek inside.

 

She finds the typical items, faded lacrosse jersey, jeans, plaid flannel. socks and boxers, toiletries and the like.

 

But there’s one item that stands out among the rest.

 

A small, velvet black box is stashed in the corner of the bag, at the very bottom.

 

Lydia’s breath gets caught in her throat as the possibilities run through her mind at top speed. It could be anything, right? obviously jewelry, but it's definitely not _that_. She was not anywhere near being ready for _that_.

 

“Lyds, come on!”

 

Stiles had popped his head back into the house to shout at her again, and she promptly drops the box. Shaking her head, she picks up the box that could very well change lives - _her_ life - , and stashes it back in the duffle bag before leaving the room.

 

She meets Stiles outside, where the jeep is idling. Lydia puts on a brave face and offers him a small smile as she climbs into the passenger seat.

 

The scenarios swirl in her mind; images of Stiles down on one knee, getting married in the Stilinski's backyard and being surrounded by peonies and roses. Early morning kisses, lazy, sensual morning sex and days of waking up with amber irises looking back at her, staring right down deep into her soul. Going to work and coming home to him in his uniform, sex on the counter while dinner burns black in the oven. But soon the images change into kids in diapers running around the house, Lydia with permanent knots in her hair, Stiles coming home with a chip on his shoulder and her career fading into the background, not a successful image in sight.

 

“Lyds?”

 

Lydia hums in confusion and turns her head back to her boyfriend in a whirlwind. His brows are knitted together and his eyes are fixed on her. She registers that they’ve stopped, parked in the parking lot of the academy. She offers no explanation, only giving him a quick kiss to settle any qualms before sliding out of the passenger seat of the Jeep.

 

\--------------------------

 

Lydia was on edge for the next few weeks, unable to get the flashes of her future out of her head. She never thought that she'd be afraid of marriage, but ever since the seed was planted, the fear had spread throughout her like a disease, the decay getting worse with every passing second.

 

Every time she thought of bringing it up, Stiles would look at her with those amber eyes and she'd fall into them all over again. What was the point of bringing up silly little fears that would just hurt him?

 

And then the end of the April, and in turn their anniversary, came. The deadline to respond to OMH loomed over her head, making her irritable at best. She still had no idea how to tell Stiles, or what her decision would be.

 

But Lydia put it out of her mind for the evening; Stiles taking her out to her favorite restaurant downtown, drinks flowing and the best chicken parmesan she’d ever had. Then a walk in the cool air, clutching to his warm frame before ending up at home.

 

“Wait here.” Stiles’ face is lit up, pointer fingers held out as he enters their bedroom and hastily closes the door.

 

And the thoughts come rushing back when he opens the door. There are white and red rose petals strewn across the room, ending on the bed. The lights are turned down, and Stiles’ face is as soft as the feeling of the roses.

 

“Stiles, what is this?” She asks as he leads her into the room, settling on the end of the bed.

 

That’s when he pulls the velvet box from his pocket. The same one she’d seen in Beacon Hills a few weeks earlier.

 

“Lydia, I love you.” He starts.

 

Lydia reaches out and holds his hands, stopping him from opening the box. “Wait.”

 

His eyebrows knit together and his eyes bore into her soul. “What is it?”

 

Lydia licks her lips before speaking, her entire body vibrating with nerves. “I know what you’re going to ask and I need you to wait.” Stiles gives her a confused look but she trudges on. “I saw this a few weeks ago when you graduated from the academy, and ever since then I’ve been thinking about how much I love you. But I’ve also been thinking about my career, and I need to have one before I can even think about marrying you.”

 

“Babe, you’ll get an offer.” He says, rubbing one of his hands across her knee. “You’re going to get a great job and we are going to get married and _nothing_ else matters but us.”

 

“I got an offer.” She blurts out, the secret rolling off her tongue so easily after being held in for so long.

 

Stiles’ lips break out in a smile. “Lyds! See I told you!”

 

“It’s in New York.” Lydia cringes inside, instinct telling her this is going badly.

 

“What?” His tone is shocked, but his words are so quiet, like he can’t fathom the thought of her anywhere but right here in front of him.

 

Lydia’s heart breaks, mind made up before she even says the words. “And I think I’m going to take it.”

 

"But I have an interview with the Sacramento police department next week." Stiles responds, his words slow and stunned. "And our entire lives are _here_."

 

Lydia shakes her head. "I was never planning to stay in California forever." She whispers.

 

"No, Lydia, the plan was to go to school and work until we could move back home." Stiles voice changes into a different tone, hurt and anger rolling off his tongue. "Beacon Hills. You do remember home, right? The place we are supposed to protect?" He's pacing now, at the front of the bed.

 

"Just because I'm a banshee doesn't mean it's the only thing that defines me, or my life." She throws back at him, stubbornness getting the best of her.

 

"Well what about our life, huh Lydia?"

 

Lydia can't answer that question, not when it would be like tearing her own heart out of her chest. "I just feel like I need to do this." She says quietly.

 

Stiles just stares at her for a few moments, like he doesn't recognize the woman in front of him. "Can we just, sleep on it?" He looks at her with a certain fierceness; it twinkles in his eyes and she's sure they're even a bit glossy. "Please?"

 

Lydia gives a slight nod, but she knows in her heart that her mind's made up. She's going to New York.

 

Early the next morning, before the sun rises and the city is still quiet, Lydia slinks away. She's unable to face him and the despair she'd feel with having to say goodbye. She only takes necessities from the apartment, and leaves without a word.

 

She's pretty sure she leaves her heart behind, too.

 

\--------------------------

 

Stiles didn’t need anyone.

 

That’s what he kept telling himself, even when waking up on the floor of their - _his_ \- apartment at 2 pm, not remembering a second of the night before. Most of the time there were indiscernible stains on his flannel, empty beer cans and various food crumbs littering the floor.

 

Yeah, it had been a while since he’d showered, let alone cleaned the apartment.

 

Stiles hadn’t gone to the interview for the deputy job, drinking and sleeping right through it. He’d run out out of clean clothes and the grocery stash a week ago, down to a couple hundred bucks in his bank account with no income. He’d even sold the flat screen and Xbox for weed and whiskey, lasting him about 2 nights before he’d run out, and the cell phone had been cut off because he hadn’t paid the bill.

 

Needless to say, Stiles was a complete mess.

 

Everywhere he looked he could still see _her_ ; attempting to cook in the kitchen, sprawled out on the sofa with a thick textbook propped up on her knees and hair pulled in bun, curled up on the bed as he slipped out without waking her. And every time she came to mind, the same moment replayed in his head: “It’s in New York.” The pain that came with the words playing on repeat in his brain was fresh and deep, somehow hurting more with every second than it had when he’d first heard them.

 

And numbing the pain was the only way Stiles had been able to manage it so far.

 

Eventually, he spends the least amount of time at home as possible. Picking himself off the floor - he hasn’t slept in their bed for weeks - and leaving to go the dive bar down the street where he drinks the daylight away. Somehow he always ends up back in the apartment, and the cycle repeats.

 

He lives in a drunken stupor until Scott finally tracks him down.

 

Stiles wakes up that morning when strong arms lift him out of a sticky spill on the wood floor, remnants of stickiness on his face from whatever he’d been drinking the night before. Scott says nothing, but the look on his face is enough even for a hungover Stiles to know how disappointed he is.

 

His best friend drags him back to Beacon Hills (after getting sick on the highway back at least half a dozen times), putting him up in the spare bedroom of he and Allison’s new house. Stiles must sleep for a few days before being semi functional, the haze of tokes and booze finally wearing off.

 

It’s only then that he allows himself to cry - standing under a stream of hot water in the shower. The tears are searing, sliding down his cheeks like knives on taut flesh. They burn and wrack through his whole body, choked sobs fill the room until Scott bursts through the door.

 

Later on, he’s puffing on a cigarette to calm his nerves, and Scott finally breaks his silence, tugging on the sleeve of Stiles’ flannel.

 

“I can’t lose you, you know.”

 

The seriousness on his best friend’s - hell his _brother_ ’s - face is too much to deny. He pulls Scott into a long, bone crushing hug, and he makes up his mind that he’s done drinking.

 

Stiles doesn’t touch anything alcoholic for an entire year after that.

 

\--------------------

 

Lydia fills the void in her heart by throwing herself into her work.

 

It works for a long time; she ignores calls from Allison, texts from Scott and doesn’t even speak to her mother. She excels at her job, exceeding any and all expectations from her bosses.

 

After a few months she starts calling Allison back, mostly only listening rather than telling her about life in NYC, not that there was much to tell.

 

Ally keeps her up to date on the events of Beacon Hills; When she and Scott put a down payment on a house,  Melissa and John getting married, Stiles staying sober, her pregnancy, and then the word slips out that Stiles is dating again.

 

“Who is she?” Is Lydia’s immediate response, heart plummeting into her stomach. Allison tells her about a few of the girls he’s brought to dinner, a redhead named Danielle apparently being consistently around for family night at the McCall’s.

 

And that’s when Lydia’s resolve starts to break. She had been scared when she decided to leave for New York, but the overwhelming emotion she feels at the news is complete and utter heartbreak.

 

Lydia cries herself to sleep that night, wrapped up in a faded t shirt of his she finds at the back of her closet.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm [lydiamsrtin](lydiamsrtin.tumblr.com) on tumblr!
> 
> please let me know what you thought!


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